


Seeing the Truth

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal makes a statement, Moral conflict (sort of), Murder, People are rude and then they are dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rotting of the mind does not extend to the vital organs, much to Hannibal's delight.<br/>(i.e. Hannibal Lecter kills and plans to eat a particularly nasty couple.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting the Main Course

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don't really know if this is any good, but I'm pretty proud of it regardless! Parts of it were inspired by "The Bone Collector," and I hope it works! 
> 
> Anyways, I don't own none of this, blah blah blah, you've probably read this sentence like 1,000 times already.
> 
> Enjoy the murder!

 

Meeting the Main Course

 

Long ago, Hannibal Lecter had come to the conclusion that there were two types of elite in Baltimore’s society: those who handled their money, and those who were ruled by it.  Amongst the rich swirl of colorful dresses, designer suits, and glittering jewels, Mr. and Mrs. Craig sipped champagne and mingled, completely and blissfully unaware of the man watching them from the other side of the hall.  Underneath the designer clothing, however, Mr. and Mrs. Craig were positively _rotting_ from years of greed and self-indulgence.   

As the heiress to a vast fortune and the product of impeccable breeding, Mrs. Craig carried herself with the all the grace of a duchess at court.  From her ears dangled teardrops of platinum scrollwork and diamonds which stopped just short of the angled ends of her straight blonde bob.  Around her neck were more diamonds, small but glittering against her sun-kissed skin.  She floated from here to there with the _click-click-click_ of Christian Loubitons muffled by her over-zealous laugh that commanded the attention of everyone in the room. 

Her husband was no less aesthetically pleasing, the deep blue of his tie matching his wife’s chiffon gown absolutely perfectly.  He prided himself in his appearance, and wore only the best suits money could buy.  As the top divorce attorney in the state, he too was fabulously wealthy, thanks to the hefty fee he demanded for his services.  With half of those in attendance this evening former clients of his, Mr. Craig was a very popular man this evening.

It was time, Hannibal decided, to approach them.  As he got nearer, he was able to catch bits and pieces of Mrs. Craig’s voice, which sounded quite annoyed.      

“…Can’t take her anywhere, and I have to wipe fingerprints off my walls every day because she puts her dirty little hands all over—“

“Ah, Doctor Lecter!  How nice to see you!”  Louise Terazzi, a frequent symphony attendee and local art collector, had attended a number of Hannibal’s dinners and was quick to include anyone and everyone in polite conversation.  “Have you met the Craigs’ yet?”

“I’m afraid I have not yet had the pleasure.” Hannibal replied, as if he hadn’t been studying them for the last ten minutes.

She extended a manicured hand and he took it, careful not to touch the impressive sapphire perched atop her finger.

“That is quite an impressive ring, Mrs. Craig.”

“It’s the engagement ring I bought her,” gloated Mr. Craig, “Set me back nearly twenty grand, but tradition states that a man should spend a month’s salary when buying one, and who am I to go against tradition?  It’s not like I couldn’t afford it, though….”  He smirked in Hannibal’s direction and finished his beverage in one large gulp. 

“Then you are a very fortunate woman, Mrs. Craig.”

“I suppose.”  Her eyes wandered around the room and she gave an annoyed huff, as if to say she found her company to be quite dull.  “Louise mentioned that you are a Doctor, or am I mistaken?”

“Yes, I am a psychiatrist, although I used to be a surgeon years ago.” 

“So, what, you gave up working with normal people to go spend time with the crazies, eh?”  Mr. Craig laughed and snatched another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by.  Apparently, he was unable to hold his liquor very well, and it showed by the way he carelessly downed half of the contents at once.  What a waste of champagne.  “You couldn’t pay me enough to do that.”

“It is difficult work, but I find it to be very rewarding.  The mind is a marvelous thing to behold, sometimes even more so when it is damaged or not functioning normally.”

“Those people scare me,” says Mrs. Craig with a flip of her hair, “I think they should all be locked up and kept away from us civilized people.”

“Well, some do require more vigorous treatment in an inpatient facility, but I believe that no one is beyond help.”

The conversation continued on after that, with Hannibal only half-listening.  It took a fair measure of restraint to keep a kind face on the surface while his insides boiled with rage. 

They would most definitely be coming to dinner—but not to dine.

Before Mrs. Craig dragged her tipsy husband away from the group, he was able to obtain Mr. Craig’s business card—so he could recommend him to a client, of course.  Mr. Craig was all-too-happy to oblige, handing over the card with a flick of his wrist and a smirk on his lips. 

 _Hopefully your insides won’t be as rotten as you are,_ Hannibal thought, before putting the business card in this jacket pocket and leaving the banquet.


	2. The Symbolism of Murder

 

The Symbolism of Murder

The murder of Mr. and Mrs. Craig was a quiet affair—he only needed a few more things for his dinner party on Saturday, so there needn’t be much of a fuss.  One could even compare it to a trip to the grocery store—sometimes a kill was just _needed_ to complete a meal.  A quick slit to each throat and they were dead, without so much as a gurgle from the man and an aborted scream from his wife. 

He opened them up while they were still in bed, blood staining the pale green sheets and leaking onto chestnut wood flooring.  Red most definitely not Mrs. Craig’s color, but her liver was nearly as flawless as the jewels that had adorned her ears and neck not a week before.  Perhaps she wasn’t a complete waste of life after all, he mused, as he placed the glistening organ on ice and began to cut open her husband. 

After taking a particularly juicy pair of kidneys from Mr. Craig, Hannibal tucked the sheet up under the corpses’ chins and took a moment to admire his handy work.  True, it wasn’t his most exciting scene, but there was beauty to be found in simplicity.  If there hadn’t been blood soaking half the room, it would look like the two were quietly dreaming before the shrill beep of an alarm clock pulled them from their slumber.       

Just when he was removing his rubber gloves and putting on fresh ones, he heard a shuffling sound come from the hallway.  He saw a faint shadow move across the wall through the crack of the bedroom door, and it seemed to be moving away. 

There was somebody else in the house.

Deciding to leave the cooler of fresh organs behind, he stalked his way out the bedroom door and looked down the hall.  There was a soft glow coming from behind one of the doors.

 

The room belonged to a little girl, perhaps five or six years old, and was impeccably organized.  The walls were painted white and had a raised border of bright pink flowers with green stems that reached the off-white carpeting that covered the floor.  In the far left corner stood a child-sized bookcase filled with pop-up fairytales, and next to that, a play table set with two chairs tucked neatly in.  The dollhouse in the opposite corner was as clutter-free as the rest of the room, a wild-haired doll in mismatched clothing waiting patiently on a plastic couch to be played with. 

“Daddy?  Is that you?”

The little girl he had heard in the hallway was sitting up in her bed, clutching a ragged plush cat and staring blankly at him. 

Hannibal froze. 

He was conflicted.  For years, he had been killing any witnesses without a second thought and it generally worked in his favor.  However, this was a _child_ , and he had never killed a child before.  In fact, he had seen a few patients her age and found himself quite taken with them. 

“Daddy, I can’t tell where you are,” she whines, half-playfully, as she extends an arm and grasps at the nothingness in front of her, almost as if—

Oh, _that_ was interesting!   

 

The Chesapeake Ripper looked the little girl straight in the eye and _smiled._

 

* * *

 

The FBI got the call the next day about a double homicide, reported by a nanny in hysterics.  It was the third murder this week, and it was weighing on Will Graham as he swallowed down two asprin with a mouthful of lukewarm coffee.  He met up with Jack at four o’clock in the morning to make the drive to the crime scene, neither party fully awake nor in the mood for company.

“D’you think it’s another Ripper case?” asked Will.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.  Local PD hasn’t given us much in details, except that the unsub left a witness—Anabelle Craig, five years old.”

“Their daughter?”

 

“Yes.  Doctor Lecter is probably already down there asking questions.  Figured it’d be best for him to test the waters and see how much she remembers.”

_At least he’s thinking of the victims for once_ , Will thought, as he pushed his glasses back up his nose and watched the scenery go by in silence.

 

* * *

 When Hannibal Lecter emerged from Anabelle’s room, he was met with an impatient Jack Crawford and an exasperated Will Graham.      

“Well, Doctor Lecter, what do we have?”

“I am sorry to say, not much.  The killer did come into her room, though, and apparently tucked her back into bed.  Quite bizarre, but perhaps our murderer is a father?  Other than that, he didn’t interact with her at all.”

Jack Crawford huffed his disappointment.

“Are you sure that’s everything?  Couldn’t we get a physical description?”

“No, she was unable to give a physical description.  What I’ve told you is all I could get out of her.”

Will turned his head to stare at the girl’s bedroom door, his mind reeling as he attempted to fit all the pieces together.  This was even more enjoyable than Hannibal had imagined it would be while driving to the crime scene this morning! 

“She had to have seen him!”  Jack was seething now.   _Excellent._

”Don’t five-year-olds sleep with a light on or something?”

“Yes, but that wouldn’t have helped any.”  _Oh, this was too good!_

“What do you _mean_ it wouldn’t have helped?  He came into her room, covered in her parents’ blood, _tucked her into bed_ , and—“

“She’s blind, Jack.”

Will answered before Hannibal could, and it only made the situation that much more delicious.  It was the ultimate punch line.  The absolute best possible outcome.  He had killed two people and the only person who would be able to testify against him _couldn’t see his face!_  

“That’s why he left her alive,” Will continued, as a gobsmacked Jack eyed him intensely.  “The Ripper doesn’t kill children, unless they pose a threat to him.  I assume he didn’t talk to her, so she couldn’t identify his voice, and she couldn’t see his face…”

Hannibal relished the next bit, the piece-de-resistance, as the realization tumbled past Will Graham’s lips.

“That’s why he took their eyes, Jack.  The Ripper removed the eyes so the parents would finally have something in common with their daughter.  They were, they went out a lot, and they were incredibly self-absorbed, and always so concerned about appearances…  Anabelle was the only one who saw them for what they really were, because _she couldn’t see them at all_.”

Although his expression said otherwise, Hannibal was thrilled.  What was supposed to be a quick organ run had turned into something poetic, a dazzling feat in social commentary.  With no traceable evidence left behind, the FBI would be mulling this one over for quite some time—or, until he ran out of organs, which wouldn’t happen for quite some time.

With a full heart, and an even fuller freezer back home, Hannibal spent the rest of his morning drinking in the crime scene he had left behind.  The FBI wasn’t able to find any evidence, of course, and the little girl was sent to live with her aunt in the next town over.  When she came of age, she would inherit her parents’ massive fortune, and wouldn’t have to worry about finances for the rest of her life.  It was a storybook ending, really.

And in the kitchen that night, as he prepared his supper, Hannibal Lecter _smiled._

 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...DAT PLOT TWIST THOUGH!
> 
> (I thought it was good, idk)
> 
> Anyways, hope you liked it! Feel free to comment if you want :)
> 
> (Also sorry for the lame chapter titles it's like really late and I'm too lazy to think of anything better)


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